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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884442">Too Good To Last</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlight/pseuds/CherryFlight'>CherryFlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Irresponsible spying, M/M, Prequel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlight/pseuds/CherryFlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Natirru is hardly a dedicated spy; he's found a surprisingly happy life on the other side.  But he always knew it wouldn't be forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Smuggler/Male Imperial Agent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Too Good To Last</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mail was disguised as a generic work form, one his husband would never glance at twice. But the header gave it a number Natirru would never find in any medcenter on either side. His chest tightened. His “real” employer hadn’t asked for direct contact for the last three years. Natirru closed the message, deleted it, then went through the routine of scrubbing it from memory. He logged out of the mail client and approached their personal holo display. Abric had bought it for their second anniversary, or maybe he just happened to come into possession of it then. One could never tell, married to a smuggler. Despite the intent to watch their favorite shows on it, both of them still preferred going out. It saw more use for communications than playback.</p>
<p>He shrugged out of his doctor’s coat and draped it over the arm of the nearby chair, and knelt to program an encrypted connection. <em>Please,</em> he thought,<em> don’t let this be the day he starts asking for things I’ll have to hurt people for. </em>So far, he had been perfectly willing to accept what he had given - it may not turn the tides of power by itself, but by staying up to date on what the Republic <em>could </em>treat, the Empire could focus on what they couldn’t yet. That was enough for a Sith who wanted to make himself feel useful. It let him stay here. But if he had suddenly decided that wasn’t enough…</p>
<p>The holo flickered to life. It had quite a distance to travel and an unusual route to get there, so it continued to flicker at its most stable. But no amount of interference could mask the fact that the Sith who stood before him was not the one who had plucked him out of the military six years ago to train him as his personal spy.</p>
<p>This Sith was a woman, tall and muscled, hands on her hips as she scowled at the display through her thoroughly-styled ringlets of hair.</p>
<p>“Is it finally- <em>there.</em> Hello, agent.” She gave him a once-over, and her expression changed to a bewildered amusement. “<em>Interesting</em>, I had entertained the possibility Donshe had sent an alien, but you must be skilled, indeed, to have made them think a Chiss was their friend. Or loving spouse, according to these records.”</p>
<p>Natirru blinked at the holo, his mind reeling as it abandoned everything he had prepared himself to say. “Relatively rare as we are, it’s actually quite easy - who are you?”</p>
<p>“Lord Jennal Malo. I’m afraid Lord Donshe failed to mind his tongue, and I’ve ‘inherited’ his things. I’m your new employer. That, or you’re now unemployed and in enemy territory. Which would you rather have, agent?”</p>
<p>Natirru swallowed. Keep her talking. Let her revel in her clear superiority by showing apprehension. Don’t show emotion beyond that. Let her lead, and learn. “You keep calling me that, my lord, but I’m not with Intelligence.”</p>
<p>“You’re-“ Jennal blinked rapidly, and quickly reappraised him. He made an effort to stay calm and professional while her eyes flicked over him as if she could find some fresh answers. “…where did he find you, then? Never mind. Clearly, you deserve to be there. You haven’t even picked up the local accent and they trust you. I so happen to have use for a spy back here. How are you with stealth?”</p>
<p>“Not very good. My mission here never called for it. My generator is ill-used and second-rate.” He hoped that would be enough to dissuade her. If he let on he didn’t <em>want</em> to leave, if he let on he thought of this as his real home, his real life, only the stars knew what this stranger might do. “I’m trusted here, and have access to all current medical treatments for-“</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, I know, agent - and I will call you that because I know you <em>will</em> be one.” She giggled, a deep, indulgent sound. “I don’t have need for such things. Bioweapons aren’t my household’s specialty. How about slicing?”</p>
<p>He was trapped. He couldn’t deny ability in <em>every</em> skill. “I’m capable, my lord.”</p>
<p>“Excellent. Then here is a job to combine your skills. Tell me, could you use such a skill to break into an orbital station’s medcenter archives, and quickly find a specific file?”</p>
<p>Natirru thought about it. Visualizing possibilities, taking things step by step, this came naturally to him. It helped him keep his cool in treating the wounded, and it kept him and the patient calm and on-track while calibrating prosthetics. And now, it would seal a fate he had dreaded every day of this life, this marriage, that he never knew he had needed so badly.</p>
<p>“Has this station had any security incidents before?”</p>
<p>“In the medcenter? Not a one.”</p>
<p>“Then it shouldn’t be difficult to create a gap in the guard postings. What sort of file do you need me to find?”</p>
<p>“Oh, just a secret I need buried. An embarrassment, nothing<em> too</em> scandalous, I assure you. I only thought it best to bring you home before I cut you off. We’ll discuss the details in person, agent. Dispose of your husband and anyone else close enough to want to follow you, and disappear. You can do that, <em>can’t you</em>?”</p>
<p>It was drawled in a playful threat. She already knew. Or suspected. Natirru was grateful for the glow of his eyes that masked the subtle changes she might otherwise read.</p>
<p>“My husband is spacebound for the next three weeks, my lord. It comes with his line of work, I’m afraid.” Abric had projected half that time at most. He wouldn’t want to be <em>too </em>late for their anniversary. But Jennal didn’t need to know that. “And, since you’re planning to send me Intelligence’s way, vanishing may cause unintended difficulties for future missions. They will know, if I simply vanish without a trace.” Already, his mind was working. How could he get away clean, how could he avoid killing. Automated taxi flight schedules flitted through his mind, briefly mingled with whatever conferences or appointments he could make.</p>
<p>“I certainly hope you aren’t too<em> attached</em>, agent. I’m perfectly willing to offer whatever support or resources you need to get you into Intelligence after this job. Consider it a severance package.”</p>
<p>“No, my lord,” he quickly lied, his voice remaining a practiced even quiet. “I’ll fake my death. That has a lesser chance of backfiring in the future.”</p>
<p>“If you say so. Do whatever you need to to get out of there, or I will assume you’ve decided to defect for real. I’m sure I can find a way to wring some wonderful favors out of bringing down a defector…”</p>
<p>“I will need a week to set it in motion, my lord. I’ll-“ His voice broke, and he mentally swore at himself for letting that slip. “…I’ll be on Dromund Kaas within the month.”</p>
<p>Jennal smiled, sharp and wicked. A Sith who knew she was causing suffering was a happy Sith. “Very good. Farewell until then, agent.”</p>
<p>The holo flickered again, and went dim and silent. Without the need for it, his composure dissolved. A shiver worked its way to his legs and shoulders, his face and eyes began to burn. Natirru sank into the chair he had laid his coat on, and wept into his hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"But the tags lied!" you say.  "Where's the male smuggler?"</p>
<p>It may not be the <i>direct</i> narrative focus, but I feel like Natirru's relationship with Abric was very important to this piece, as his single strongest anchor to this life.  So despite not being front-and-center I feel it drove his motivation enough to warrant tag presence.  Also I feel like misusing OC tags is probably more forgivable than misusing canon character tags.  If I've still done it incorrectly, let me know and I won't do it again!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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